


The Prince's Curse

by Beap



Series: His Son's Destiny [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Comedy of Errors, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-11 06:46:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beap/pseuds/Beap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin must be taught that Arthur is his true destiny.  Kilgharrah teaches him in a way that he will never forget.<br/>(Prequel to His Son's Destiny Series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince's Curse

Young, bold and arrogant, Uther Pendragon said "to hell" with the curse that all kings feared. However, Uther learned through hard knocks that the curse was very real. Twenty years later, he still suffered the bastard from his youth while secretly frightened that someday she would destroy his kingdom.

An older and wiser Uther protected his legitimate heir, born of his queen, from a similar fate. Adamant to the point of dispatching spies or having the prince's chambers searched for girls whenever he noticed the all too familiar glances that he, himself, had once made an art form, Uther ensured that his son heeded the curse, which still had him in hell.

**

The young prince scoffed at his royal predicament. "I understand that my pickings are slim," he grumbled. "Yet, my father selects a country bumpkin. And one, no more suitable to my needs than my previous manservant."

Merlin had heard that his two previous menservants lasted only three months, combined. He now understood why as he accepted another of his insults. "I'm sorry," he apologized for being a country bumpkin and for his lack of lackey experience. "But the airs and graces of nobility are a mystery to me." Newly appointed manservant to the warrior prince, he assumed that his responsibilities were to tend the prince's weaponry, quarters, meals, draw his bath and help dress him into his armor.

The latter task, Merlin had just completed and with a fretful uncertainty. He passed the prince his sword, stepped back and awaited his unyielding criticism. When Arthur Pendragon stood center floor in his chambers, inspected his new manservant from foot to head and then announced in a disgruntled tone, "mostly, skin and bone. But a strong back. You'll do," did Merlin begin to feel completely ill-at-ease in his lowly, unsolicited position.

Do? For what," he warily inquired. With his thoughts lost to conceive such a heavy and backbreaking chore, a scathing glare of superiority prompted him to quickly add, "um, my lord."

"Speak to Gaius," Prince Arthur commanded, terse and crotchety in his quick stride while leaving for his daily training. "Inform him that I wish you prepared, tonight."

"Prepared," Merlin asked, but was left standing, scratching at his jaw and talking to himself. "Prepared to lift what," he wondered aloud. His confusion lingered while he cleaned the prince's chambers and then mucked his stables before exercising his royal dogs.

**

Gaius busily poured medicine into a small bottle when his new assistant entered their shared quarters. Glancing from his work table, he greeted, "Ah, Merlin. Just in time. I need you to take this draft to Lady Allenby, for her migraines." The old physician halted his pour after noting the confusion on Merlin's wrinkled brow. He surmised, "More problems with the prince, I take it," but a weary head nod from Merlin left Gaius unconcerned and he resumed his pour. "Allow yourself a few more weeks," he suggested in his wise counsel. "I'm sure that you'll soon get the hang of everything."

Merlin flopped at their dinner table to rest a moment before running Gaius' errand. As he flopped, he complained, "before I can fully master one task, Arthur throws another at me." His chores mounting, he still needed to mend the prince's armor, wash his clothes and polish his boots and buttons for the evening's banquet. Exhaling, he mentioned the added chore. "Arthur said, speak to you. He wants me prepared for something, tonight."

Gaius suddenly stiffened at his statement. He remained silent as he stared at the vial that he now held high in the air. As if gauging the potion's potency, he searched for a tactful reply. With his thoughts formulated, he moved slowly toward the dinner table while explaining. "Merlin," he said in his wisdom. "I'm sure that you're aware, by now, that nobility has its responsibilities as well as its privileges…"

"I'm learning," he uttered, but mainly to fill the void while Gaius moved deliberately slower than normal to cross the room. His slow motion added more confusion to Merlin's already jagged brow.

Gaius finally sat opposite him at the table and resumed his explanation. "Take Arthur, for example," he said. "As the future king of Camelot, he has a responsibility to preserve the royal bloodline. All expect the future queen to be of noble birth and breeding, like himself. Their union may even be arranged for political purposes, to unite two powerful kingdoms…"

Merlin's furrow deepened while he listened.

His deepening frown made Gaius lean toward him and carefully search his face to determine if he understood his meaning. Seeing the need, Gaius continued. "Any bastards born to a king could cause tremendous upheaval and strife with possible legal challenges to the throne, itself…"

Merlin held his tongue but he now sat high and rigid as his whole face contorted at the direction of Gaius' words.

"…However," Gaius explained further. "Arthur is a young man and in the prime of his virility. Since he's forbidden to relieve his stress or seek pleasure in a female for fear of impregnating her, he's allowed an alternative privilege to seek it, in a male." The old physician fumbled with the vial in his fingers as he cautiously completed, "Usually, his manservant."

Merlin had already leaped to his feet. "I am not a woman! Nor will I be handled like one," he lashed out at the thought. "Destiny be damned!"

"Merlin,"

"Gaius, no!"

"But Merlin, it's a normal and accepted practice for the sovereignty,"

"And one, which they can keep!" He snatched the phial from Gaius' fingers and used his magic to first open and then slam the heavy wooden door behind him. His chest still heaving with rage, he banged upon Lady Allenby's castle door and all but threw the small bottle at the middle-aged woman. Storming back to Gaius, he suddenly stopped halfway down the sunlit corridor. A solution was calming him and he nodded while mumbling to himself. "If the arrogant prat needs a passive and servile body in his bed, then that's exactly what he'll get!"

Merlin re-entered but feigned a submissive and reconciling heart.

Gaius purposely waited at the table for him to return. Through cautious eyes seeking to detect his anger, he looked up from his ancient book of herbs. "I see that you've had time to calm yourself," he noted.

Merlin sat slumped across the table from him, again. With his head lowered to hide his intent, he asked, in a weary tone of defeat, "This accepted practice, does Arthur engage in it, often?"

"Surprisingly, no," Gaius rushed to defend the prince, now that Merlin was at least considering the objectionable duty. "Very seldom has Arthur ordered a manservant prepared and I'm sure that it will be the same with you."

"Gaius, please, define 'seldom' for me," he uttered, implying his consent.

"Only, when the stress of his heavy responsibilities overwhelm him. Two, perhaps three occasions in the entire year, before you arrived. I believe the sorceress, Nimueh, triggered his need, this time. Her large death total from her poisoned water, his tiring search to find the culprit, plus arresting Guinevere to face a pyre was simply too much stress for him. Arthur is not the villain that you may currently perceive," Gaius assured him. His sympathy for his young prince and his younger apprentice was noticeable. "Merlin, I'm sorry that he has requested you. Obviously, the choice is yours. However, if you refuse Arthur his privilege, he may have you banished from Camelot and your destinies will go unfulfilled."

"Banish me," he asked, incredulously but then he remembered their tumultuous introduction. Arthur had already landed him in the dungeons and in the stocks. Banishment was not so far fetched, after all.

"Merlin, try to see it this way," Gaius suggested in his wise counsel. "Arthur would not have selected you if he held no initial feelings. He just inadvertently announced those feelings in his request. Feelings, which you obviously reject. That's why he may banish you. Out of hurt. Childish, no doubt but I believe that's why you're here. To help teach him as well as protect him. Unlike his previous manservant, whom he never requested, I'm confident that you've made some type of favorable impression upon him."

"Favorable impression," Merlin smirked, sarcastic, while thinking what better way for Arthur to further humiliate him than by making him bend over for his pleasure. "My destiny is demanding a lot from me, Gaius," he sighed, truthfully. In his charade, he acknowledged, "Perhaps, I can manage a couple of times a year." He then pretended to be more weary. "This preparation," he asked, with a louder sigh. "I assume, now, that it entails a clyster. Is there anything else that I should know before I become Arthur's concubine?"

Gaius placed a grateful hand over Merlin's hand and tenderly squeezed it. "Camelot will owe you a great deal, indeed," he said, as he rose. He then went to a medicine cupboard. While searching, he spoke, "I have an arnica oil here, somewhere, that will help ease the pain of penetration and also allow you to heal much faster."

**

The evening banquet bustled with royalty from both Camelot and Olaf's kingdom. Merlin stood several feet behind Prince Arthur, who sat at the main table. From his back wall view, Merlin noted that the prince did act exceptionally stressed, now that Gaius had mentioned it. Since Merlin first arrived in Camelot, he had considered Arthur to be a 'royal arse', but now, Arthur appeared to struggle through the festivities, biting at his tongue to keep from barking sarcastic remarks at all who spoke to him. The Lady Morgana and his father, included. After long-winded and self-congratulatory speeches by Olaf and Uther, both bragging of their bloodless resolution of a small land dispute, Arthur left the head table to investigate a burglary report in the lower district. "Merlin," he called, in a tone meant more to fetch a royal dog.

Merlin stole a few seconds before leaving. He gazed about the banquet hall with a sudden disdain for the honored and noble class. Apparently, all knew the 'prince's privilege' but seemed indifferent concerning a lowly manservant's honor. Feeling invisible to them, he bowed out and raced to the future king's heels.

Arthur stared down the corridor that he walked. In his brisk authoritative stride and his head held high, he listened to Merlin's footsteps pacing to catch up. When he sensed that Merlin was just behind his right shoulder, he demanded to know, "Did you speak to Gaius, as I ordered?"

"Yes," Merlin uttered.

Arthur snapped his face around and gave him another scornful glare.

"Um, my lord," he quickly corrected.

"Then, you're prepared," Arthur asked, but more so in a statement, implying that his order had no doubt been obeyed.

Merlin uttered, again, "yes, sire."

"Retire to my chambers," he ordered, further. "Bathe yourself thoroughly and have a second bath awaiting my return."

"Of course, my lord,"he answered lowly and through clenched teeth. He then stood watching the arrogant young man descend the stairs with his broad shoulders held stiff and regal as he disappeared toward a castle exit.

**

Merlin sat in a corner near the door when the prince returned to his chambers. He slowly rose, poured the final bucket of heating water into the tub and started retrieving garments from the floor as Arthur dropped them. While Arthur submerged in the warm cedar scented water, Merlin hung his banquet clothes and then moved toward his distant chair, again. Callous words stopped him.

"Merlin," Arthur snarled, without turning his head. "Being the country bumpkin that you are, I assume that you've never satisfied a prince in bed, before?"

His back to Arthur, Merlin squeezed his eyes shut as if to block out his heartless question. Finally, he shook his head, however a tense silence forced him to turn and give a respectful reply. "No, my lord."

"Then, I'll overlook your stupidity," Arthur snapped. "You are to get into bed and warm my covers. I suggest, too, that you loosen yourself, unless you wish to be heard screaming, throughout the castle?"

Merlin concealed his own scathing glare behind the prince's back. "No, my lord," he uttered and started for the far side of the bed to undress.

"And Merlin," he barked more orders. "Stoke my fire and then kill all of these damned torches that you've brought in here."

"Yes, sire."

The darkened room danced amber near Merlin's feet and faded to misty blue near his head. Huddled naked beneath the covers in the center to warm the bed, he stared at the moon-glowed oriel windows while listening to the faint sounds of Arthur drying himself and moving about his chambers. While he listened, fear eroded his courage in clusters. When he felt the covers lift and the bed dip with added weight, Merlin willed himself motionless to keep from bolting from the room. His inert effort was short-lived.

Within seconds, calloused hands, strong and insensitive, were upon his back and rolling him face down while hard knees were pushing his own apart. He then felt the insensitive hands grab him by his groins and yank his buttocks into the air. The strong hands returned to his back, rubbing him from his shoulders to his waist, up and down, again and again.

Merlin could only assume, through his own fear and ragged breathing, that the prince was arousing himself. Adding to his panic, he felt himself becoming aroused, too. Lost in a sea of contradictions, he was terrified to risk magic, ashamed to feel pleasure in the hard back rubs and literally mortified to respond to Arthur's crude sexual behavior. So contradictory his emotions, he concealed a cry. Then, he grew angry, infuriated by the relentless dichotomy of his so-called destiny. He had been told that he would become the most powerful of sorcerers but an idiot was treating him worse than a whore. At least a whore had the right to say no, he thought. And so did he! In his silent angry cry, he buried his face in the pillow and spoke his enchantment.

Arthur was suddenly oblivious to the world. He stretched his arms wide and with a loud yawn, he fell over, hard and fast asleep.

**

The next morning, Merlin struggled to secure Arthur's forearm gauntlet. His hands shook as he stood quiet and frightened while wondering if his sorcery was suspect.

"Merlin," Arthur said as he stared into his downcast face, inches from his own. "I'm not ignorant," he announced.

Merlin's breath hitched.

Arthur heard it hitch. Sympathy filled his voice as he continued. "I'm fully aware that last night was unpleasant for you," he said. "If allowed another choice, I would gladly seek it. I simply want you to know that I'm eternally in your debt."

Merlin raised his face and stared back. Initially lost for words, his eyes welled a bit as he realized that what he labeled a 'prince's privilege' was actually a 'prince's curse'. Like himself, Arthur would have taken little pleasure in his mandated sex. Mainly, his stress relieved. Looking down at the gauntlet again, Merlin found a small joke in the irony. The deep oblivious sleep no doubt relieved his stress. "I'm glad that I could help," he said.

Arthur smiled, grateful that Merlin accepted his apology. He promised, "if ever I can return the honor."

Merlin was stunned. He stared into Arthur's eyes, again, with his own widening.

"I meant," Arthur rushed to correct him, "that I'd be honored to afford you a prostitute wench."

"Oh."

"And from the upper district, where several of my knights frequent. Not the lower," he added, now joking. "And Merlin, you do have a strong back. I feel fantastic, this morning."

Merlin gladly passed his helmet, relieved that his spell had gone undetected. "Just try not to make it a habit," he asked.

Position dictated that Arthur have the last retort. "The way you've left me feeling, don't count on it," he laughed aloud. As he exited for the daily training, both were smiling in their separate relief.

**

Torch in hand, Merlin stood on the ledge of the dungeon caverns, calling out, "Where are you? I need your help!"

Kilgharrah flew down and slothfully perched. With an air of perpetual annoyance, he rested his head to the side as he sighed, "So soon, again, young warlock?"

Merlin ignored his sullen disposition convinced that he would behave the same if chained in a cave for twenty years. However, he had little time for sympathy and he quickly stated the reason he had come. "Arthur is missing," he said. " We've searched everywhere but we can't find him."

Kilgharrah raised his head with a curious, "um." Thinking it carelessness of the warlock, he asked, "You, of all people, cannot locate the other side of your coin?"

Merlin dismissed the old riddle. Anxious to explain, he said, "Arthur rode out to check the harvest but his horse returned without him. That was two days ago. We haven't found a trail or trace of him, since."

The old dragon sat up and gazed down upon Merlin. Apparent to him, someone was fighting destiny. The prince's curse basically assured Arthur's compliance. As Kilgharrah gazed down upon Merlin, he thought that the warlock was a bit gangly and large-eared but his sensuous lips and pleasing creamy complexion should have all but guaranteed their closeness. Concluding it Merlin, Kilgharrah surmised, "Perhaps, the coin has not been properly melded."

"Stop speaking in riddles," Merlin shouted, anxious and impatient. "Can you help me or not!"

"Yes, young warlock. I can help you. I can give you the telepathy to locate your master, wherever he may be. However, there is a price to pay."

Suddenly, Merlin was no longer impatient. He eased a few steps back as he warily asked, "What price?"

"That you can no longer enchant your destiny," Kilgharrah answered and with yet another sly riddle. "The choice is yours."

Merlin approached the dragon, again. Bold, proud and daring, he boasted, "You've already said that I'm to become the most powerful of all sorcerers! I have no intentions of changing that!"

"Then, there is no cost to you," Kilgharrah replied, smiling at his boastful pride. He knew that the warlock was as arrogant as the prince. Always had been. Merlin had even bragged that he could take the "royal arse" apart with no blows. Before Merlin could teach the prince humility, Kilgharrah concluded that Merlin must be taught humility, first.

Impatient, again, Merlin insisted, "Give me this telepathy that you mentioned."

"As you wish," Kilgharrah nodded, still smiling. He then blew his breath on Merlin.

Arthur was found. Held captive deep in the woods by a deranged secret admirer, she pretended to be a damsel in distress, clobbered the young prince over his head, dragged him to her isolated home, tied him up and then covered her covetous deed. Merlin used his temporary telepathic power to locate Arthur and then he conjured a trail to her door that even the worst of knights could have followed.

**

Arthur had almost killed his father. With his cold steel blade pressed against the king's throat, he demanded to hear from his sire's lips that witchcraft had not given him life while sacrificing his mother. After thanking Merlin for preventing his grievous sin while inadvertently calling him evil and dangerous, Arthur continued to stand and stare out of his chambers' window. Adding to his anguish, his precious moments with his dead mother had been labeled an illusion. Dispirited and confused, he whispered, "Merlin, I need you, tonight."

Tears already clouded Merlin's eyes. Arthur had just condemned him an eternal threat and now, Arthur sought comfort by taking his manhood. With his last threads of pride, Merlin fought to hold back his tears. In a magnanimous effort, he managed to reply, "of course, Arthur."

As before, Merlin went to Gaius for preparation, to better conceal his sorcerous intent.

**

Overly stressed, too, Merlin kneeled in the large bed, rested upon his forearms and allowed himself to take pleasure in Arthur's strong hands rubbing up and down his back. Such strange contradictions his destiny entailed, he continued to think. Here he was, a lowly manservant, a would-be whore and a condemned warlock and yet he was receiving a glorious unintentional back massage from his master, transgressor and sworn enemy.

If Arthur only knew, Merlin thought, smirking at the absurdities. The instant the strong hands stopped moving, he buried his face in the pillow and spoke his enchantment. While he waited for Arthur to fall over oblivious in sleep, his smirk started to fade. Kilgharrah's riddle became clear to him the instant he felt the first pain. With his agony going deeper, inch by excruciating inch, his mind screamed out, "Draagonn, damn youuu!" Fighting to not yell, his boastful pride quickly turned into humility as he felt humbled by his own stupidity. Then struggling to brace himself against the powerful pounds, he heard the old dragon speak to him from deep within the dungeon caverns.

"Young warlock, perhaps, now, you are learning," Kilgharrah counseled him. "To become the greatest of all sorcerers is but your weaponry to protect the future king of Albion. Arthur Pendragon is your destiny."


End file.
